


Setting the Rules

by Clockwork



Series: Training the Pet [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Coercion, Drug Use, M/M, dub con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-12
Updated: 2010-12-12
Packaged: 2017-10-13 15:34:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clockwork/pseuds/Clockwork
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The game goes on</p>
            </blockquote>





	Setting the Rules

Carefully he calculated the window needed before he returned to Sherlock. At least four hours, no more than seven. Optimal timing would ensure the quickest and easiest route to what he wanted. Wanting to ensure that he got what he wanted didn't mean it would continue to be enjoyable if the astringent scent of urine overcame the room.

Considering that, he called for a personal nurse whom he met outside of the room three hours later.

"He'll need a bath and I will send down clothes. Be sure that he doesn't leave that room. I suspect the medication he's on will keep him out but do try and understand that he is overcoming an addiction and can become violent if you're not careful."

Leaving the woman tsking as she opened the door, he hurried back to his office, picking up one of a series of disposable cell phones lining a shelf. Clicking into his email, he almost got lost in the video feed he'd taken from their first playtime. Holmes had been less than eager but the willingness had been shown in him calling Jim back. It was a start.

Relooping the feed, he prepared the clip he needed before carefully dialing a number he knew by heart.

John answered on the first ring.

"Hello? Sherlock?"

Holding the phone to the speaker, Jim caressed the button of the mouse, staring the clip playing.

"If a life of debauchery was my choice, I would have it. If I wished to still be an addict, I would be. You believe your place in my life is so great that I need you to approve such activities for me?"

Holmes' voice, unmistakable even with the quaver that ran through those velvet tones. In truth Jim had planned to work a bit of electronic magic to get the perfect clip for the second part of his game, but Sherlock had made it easy for him. Triumphant and smug, he sat back in his seat as he pushed a button, closing the connection. Sometimes it was the simple things in life that brought the greatest pleasure. No, that wasn't true. Sometimes the simple things in life were part of the greatest pleasure.

With that thought he pushed a button on his desk phone, waiting for the connection to pick up.

"A single cup of tea to Mister Holmes' room, thank you." Clipped tones, he closed the connection, glancing at the clock. An hour more. No less.

He started up the video once more.

Assured by the nurse that the patient was well though a bit restless, Moriarty had allowed himself an extra twenty minutes before locking up his computer and making his way to Sherlock's room. Despite a rather intense ache through his body, a desire that likely came as close to his pet's own as a raindrop did to the Thames, this was not such a visit. It would be much too easy to continue to give Holmes what he wished for a hint of pleasure and a bit of play but in the end, Jim would not get what he wanted and Sherlock would end up living the life of a pampered pet. He couldn't have that now, could he?

Holmes lay on the bed, flat on his back, and staring up at the ceiling. In profile he had the sort of features that graced coins, distinctive and crisp, though with the waxen pallor of his skin, he certainly did not cut the image of a Greek warrior or returning hero. Bloodshot eyes were wide, the pupils still dilated but his hands were also once more clasped so that his fingers touched his chin.

"Oh good, you're awake."

The room smelt of disinfectant, the cut ties were gone, and the sheets clean and neat. Sherlock presented the same picture in clean black slacks and a white undershirt, and his cheeks were squeaky clean. Briefly he wondered if she'd even thought it more than the "patient's" own drool and Jim smiled, pulling up his chair once more.

"In truth, I wanted to have a bit of a chat with you. I know so much about you and yet, there are things I can't seem to learn. I understand you might not be entirely comfortable with the subjects, not to mention you might be a bit lost in your own thoughts, but do try and keep up or I may have to leave with your treat."

Settling once more into the chair, Jim glanced over at the bedside table. The cup of tea sat untouched, but there was a small plate that bore the evidence of once holding sugarcubes. None were in sight though. Jim was amused, even if Holmes had not so much as twitched an eyebrow at his presence.

"You might wish to reconsider ignoring your tea, pet. It will be the last cup you receive without asking for things properly. You see, what you've seen as merely trying to drag you down with addiction to a narcotic as you've succumbed to in the past, I'm envisioning as something a bit more permanent and less likely to be overcome with a few days strapped to a bed while your darling Doctor Watson mops your brows and tends to your delusions."

There it was. The tiniest hint of a twitch. It was more than confirmation but knowledge that his guest was not only awake but attentive, and still lucid enough from his addiction to be thinking about John first and his own predicament second. Rather touching for one who had never once shown affection for another living soul in all the time Moriarty himself had researched.

"I'm certain you believe you can control yourself, deny me what I wish and pretend that there is nothing you can't do to thwart me. Do trust that knowing how your mind works, and how quickly it can work, is why the drug I chose was not your narcotic of choice but rather the heroin. You aren't quick enough now, Sherlock, and you've already lost this battle. Admit that now, if only to yourself, and all that we're going through will be so much easier."

Then Holmes' head turned, pale eyes expressionless and his mouth set into a grim line. "Set your rules then. Lay them out before me and I will determine how best to ignore them."

"Such a brave little sol... Oh mustn't use that name. Not with you," Jim said, mouth drawn into what might pass for a smile but was all teeth with no emotion. "I don't want you merely addicted to that drug... This drug,' he said, patting his pocket. "I want you to understand your place. Now, lets begin. What do you have to do to get that next fix you're so desperately beginning to crave?"

Baleful eyes continued to bore into Jim, unblinking.

"Right then. I'll be on my way." Jim pushed up, rising nearly to his feet.

"Service you like a common whore."

Remaining standing, Jim looked down upon Shelock. "What was that again?"

"You heard me well enough." He waved a hand half heartedly at him. "Do sit back down and stop pretending you're actually going to leave instead of laying down these infernal rules. Go on then. I want a fix and I have to kneel before you. You spoke of asking properly for tea. Rather hard to ask if my mouth is full, isn't it?"

Another man might have become incensed by the way Sherlock was talking, but for Moriarty is was the sweetest of songs. This was what he wanted. The great and masterful Sherlock Holmes learning just who his master was. A mixture of the drugs and his own arrogance perhaps keeping him from realizing just who his true master would become.

"There are other ways of showing such affections," Jim noted, not taking his seat in a fit of childish pique. Holmes had ordered him to and so, of course, he couldn't give in to that. "I'm sure if you used that delightfully sharp brain of yours for something other than sarcasm and wittily biting comments you might be able to think of them."

Sherlock slowly rotated his head back to center, staring back up at the ceiling once more. "I will say that I find a handshake to be delightfully affectionate. Shall we start there."

Jim moved in an instant, suddenly looming over the prone consulting detective, strong fingers grasping Sherlock's chin. Beyond the slight widening of his eyes, the expression of bored amusement barely changed.

"I find a good spanking to be both affectionate and educational, Sherlock. Shall I put you over my knee and redden your arse for good measure?"

Holmes was quiet a moment, lips pursing as he seemed to work something out in his head.

"Given the height of either bed or chair and the length of your leg as well as the width of your thighs as you're sitting I would say the best measure was assuring the floor was cleaned because my face would very likely be brushing the floor."

It was enough to earn him a release from that vice-like grip on his jaw. Only so that Jim could bring his palm down sharply against Sherlock's cheek with a loud crack of flesh on flesh.

"Do enjoy your tea, Sherlock. As I said, unless you learn to behave better, it will be the last you have. Sugar cubes as well," he pointed out, leaving his pet with his cheek reddened and no change in his expression to be had. Locking the door behind him, Jim programmed the timer on his phone for two hours later. Staring at the phone, he smiled as his gaze raised, staring intently at the door as if he could see his pet within.

"Oh now that could be fun too," he murmured, turning on heel to put more plans into place.


End file.
